


I'll be there to hold you

by Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Dating, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Football Player Louis, Friends to Lovers, Harry is so cute, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, School Dances, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry/pseuds/Thatscoolbutwhataboutlarry
Summary: "Why are you helping me?""Because, Harry, you seem like a nice guy."Or the one where Harry's longtime crush befriends him after Harry thinks he has lost all of his friends.





	I'll be there to hold you

**Author's Note:**

> today is my last day of happiness, so fuck it.

Harry Styles is only entering his second year of high school, but so far, he has had a fairly enjoyable time. He became close with a group of friends who allowed him to sit with them one day at lunch. That group of friends taught Harry about the ropes of school. They showed him who the most popular boys were and urged him to hang out with them. Harry declined, preferring to stay with who he soon realized were the popular girls in school. The friend group decided that they liked Harry enough to keep him around, and Harry was soon one of the girls.

There were a few things about school that Harry figured out by himself. Like that when one of his new friends started dating one of the popular footie boys, they would switch lunch tables and spend all of their time with whoever they were dating. He also realized that many of his friends were dating or had dated the captain of the football team and the most attractive man Harry had ever laid eyes on; 

Louis Tomlinson. 

He has been present for many indecent conversations about the star football player. Harry still remembers how many times that he warned Hannah that Louis would find out about her cheating and how astonished he had been when Louis, against all odds, walked in on Hannah and another member of Louis’ team. Things were less ugly than he had expected. Louis was surprisingly calm, almost like he already knew. He only told Hannah that they should probably break up to which Hannah agreed.

There was one thing, however, that Harry didn't manage to discover in his freshman year of high school though. It comes to light only weeks before homecoming his sophomore year. 

Harry is far too distracted with the excitement of seeing his friends again to notice. Everyone is giggly and cheerful, so elated by the upcoming homecoming dance. Harry is guilty of this as well. He asks his friends who they want to ask them and what type of dress they're going to wear. He's not at all concerned when Eleanor asks him to stay over at her place on Saturday.

They watch sappy romantic comedies that have Harry in tears by the end, eat popcorn, and make fun of people at their school as per usual. The only odd thing Harry notices is the quick frown on Eleanor’s face when Harry finds her bra on the floor and puts it back in her drawer without giving it a second glance. Their sleepover ends before Harry can even question it.

~

“So?” Harry begins, looking around the table at Eleanor who has her arms crossed and the rest of his gleeful friends. “No one else has noticed that El has been a total drag lately? Homecoming is, like, next week for Christ’s sake. You should be excited! Someone's going to ask you soon, I'm sure.”

Eleanor looks up at Harry before scoffing exasperatedly and rolling her eyes. She looks almost as if she cannot believe Harry could be so stupid. Harry is completely lost. He doesn't understand why Eleanor is so upset with him ever since their sleepover, and he can't comprehend what he did to deserve her cold shoulder.

The rest of the girls shrug, ignoring his question. 

“Who are you going to ask, Harry? You know, that girl sitting at the table two down from us has been giving you the eyes for a while now. I think she likes you,” Gigi teases him, waggling her eyebrows. 

Harry suddenly gets quiet, staring down at his empty yogurt container as all of the girls look expectantly at him. Even Eleanor raises an eyebrow.

“Um–” Harry stutters. “I haven't really thought about it…”

Eleanor only rolls her eyes before glaring at Harry again. Instead of focusing on Eleanor's scowl, Harry listens to Meredith as she retells the details of how Ben asked her to the dance, smiling and awwing as everyone but Eleanor does. Harry loves Meredith to death, but it shouldn't be so surprising that the bloke who has had the hots for her since last year asked her. 

What is surprising is Eleanor's total drop in morale. Sure, she has been flirting with Louis ever since he and Hannah broke up, and so far he has not shown any signs of being interested in her or wanting to ask her to the dance. Still, that is not excuse. She should get over him and move on to someone else.

Of course, Louis Tomlinson isn't the type of person one just ‘gets over’. He’s a senior now, almost eighteen, and he's as perfect inside as he is out. He has oceanic blue eyes and hair that looks good whether down or up in a quiff. He's even got a decent stubble growing. He is always smiling and laughing, always kind to people and making them feel wanted. He even bought Hannah flowers randomly when they were still dating.

Harry has never actually talked to Louis, but he knows more about him than many of Louis’ closest friends do just from the stories that his friends have told him. Three of his friends have dated Louis, two of them dated him before Harry's time in high school, but their stories never get old. Louis is truly perfect.

~~

Homecoming inches closer and closer, and most of the girls have dates already. In fact, Harry is fairly sure that he and Eleanor are the only ones left without a date. Someone else told him this of course, because Eleanor still refuses to say more than a few words at a time to him. Harry knows that the girls all expect him to ask Eleanor. If only they knew how much he couldn't ask her. Then they might understand.

When they all go dress shopping, Harry senses an unaddressed elephant in the room. Everyone refuses to bring it up, but Harry knows that it’s because homecoming is next weekend and Eleanor has still not been asked. 

Harry helps the girls find dresses that compliment them and tells them how great they look. He ends up choosing most of the dresses they go with and picking out shoes and other various accessories that match. Eleanor purposefully disregards every single suggestion Harry makes, but the other girls listen and take his advice.

The next day at school, Eleanor is asked to homecoming. By none other than Louis Tomlinson, no less.

He doesn't make a huge scene of it, but he doesn't casually ask her either. He buys a large bouquet of flowers and presents them to her right before school starts. Eleanor gives him a kiss right on the lips to agree.

Eleanor is ecstatic, but still refuses to acknowledge Harry. Harry is beginning to get used to being ignored by her, but he is happy for her. He's also relieved that the pressure to ask her is off of his shoulders. Then again, now he is forced to go without a date, but that is okay. His friends can't hang out with their dates all night. Most every one of his friends invites him to join them and their date anyways. So Harry tags along as a third wheel.

It's beautiful, homecoming that is.

Ambient music is playing in the background as everyone chats with their friends under the colourful lights. The girls are all wearing colourful dresses, and their dates are wearing black and white with a tie that matches the colour of their date’s dress. Harry is wearing a lavender coloured shirt without a tie of any kind. 

There are a few people sitting in the chairs lined along the sides of the room. Many of them are letting their aching feet take a break, others are eating or drinking. That number increases during slow songs, chairs being filled by people without dates to dance with. 

Harry is a part of that group sitting against the wall, watching everyone else dance chest against chest with their dates. He passes the time by staring at his matching lavender socks, wondering why it's such a lovely colour and considering buying more of them.

Two shoes standing in front of him tear his attention away from his pretty knee highs.

Following the shoes up until they become slacks and then a belt, a blazer and white shirt. He pauses at the tie that matches the colour of Eleanor’s dress, taking a deep breath before looking the man right in his aquatic blue eyes. Harry blinks twice to assure himself that Louis Tomlinson is truly standing right in front of him.

Louis offers a hand. Harry looks around to make sure he isn't offering it to anyone beside him, but the two chairs are empty. Without breaking eye contact, Harry takes Louis’ hand and stands up. Louis guides Harry through the crowd of people slow dancing and to what feels like the middle of the dance floor.

Harry is barely breathing as Louis brushes a curl out of his eyes, fingertips gentle against his forehead.

He has so many questions, but as Louis holds Harry’s waist close, hands firm yet so gentle, he can't think of a single one. Harry manages to collect himself enough to wrap his arms around Louis’ neck, breaths intermingling, and move his feet with Louis’. Staring into Louis’ eyes, all of Harry's worries seem to have vanished. All that is left is this moment with Louis holding onto him, lights dim, music low. A moment wherein it feels like they are the only people in the universe. A moment that Harry never wants to end.

Harry sighs contently, closing his eyes and resting his head on Louis’ shoulder as his hands slide down to hold Louis’ upper back and keep their bodies even closer. They're so close that Harry can feel Louis’ chest move each time the older boy breathes. He only has enough sense to follow Louis’ dance lead, feet copying Louis’ mindlessly.

Harry has never felt so comfortable as he does in Louis’ arms, never felt so warm and safe as he does with Louis’ hands pressed against the small of Harry's back. They stay like that, Louis holding Harry closely and Harry absolutely lithe against Louis, until the song ends and moves to a more upbeat one.

As everyone else begins to party again, Harry lifts his head and stares up into Louis’ eyes breathlessly. Louis smiles down at him, hands still resting on Harry's waist. When Louis finally drops his hands, the beat has dropped in the next song.

They are both falling behind, the world is continuing to spin without them, the hands of the clock have begun to move again, but neither of them mind. Harry is beginning to think that they might never catch up, that they’ll be like this until the dance ends, that they’ll be standing here on the dance floor as they grow old and grey. Harry wouldn't mind it in the slightest. 

“I like your socks,” Louis whispers just before walking away and leaving Harry in the middle of the chaotic dance floor.

Harry stares after him wordlessly. All around him lights are flashing, music is blasting, people are dancing, but he stays silent and still. He doesn't dare move in fear of losing the feeling of Louis’ arms around his waist. He doesn't dare speak in fear of forgetting what it was like to have his breath mix with Louis’. 

Fortunately one of Harry's friends happens to be dancing near him and forces him to dance with her. Harry doesn't really dance, mainly stands there and laughs half heartedly at his friend.

His mind is racing with questions like why Louis danced with him instead of Eleanor, and why, out of all the people sitting alone, Louis chose him. He's probably overthinking this whole thing. It's probably something as stupid as a dare, or he couldn't dance with a girl because Eleanor would be upset so he chose him. It's probably that, but what if it isn't?

~~~

They have an assembly to begin the day after homecoming weekend. It's not important, just about how nice of a job the Student Council did with the venue and decorations and how the next dance should be just as great if not better. The other teachers make their usual announcements about clubs and their food policies after the short talk about homecoming. Harry doesn't listen, he never listens, no one does. He just laughs quietly with his friends as the faculty wastes time they could be using to teach to talk.

It's their loss. Harry would much rather be in assembly with his friends than in his classes with his classmates, most of whom he doesn't really know.

Now that Eleanor is dating Louis, she sits with his footie team and their girlfriends. It's not like Harry didn't see it coming. Every relationship, the same thing happens. At least three of Harry's friends are sitting in their section which is fine. Harry has plenty more friends to laugh with and then shut up with when a teacher calls them out, only for them to start laughing as soon as the instructor turns around. Eleanor is the one missing out.

Harry glances back to see Louis with his arm around Eleanor and Eleanor snuggled up against him, coffee in hand. He wonders what it's like to be Eleanor. He wonders what it's like to be so beautiful that people are afraid to talk to him. He wonders what it's like to be smart and talented and to have anything he could ever ask for. He wonders what it's like to be dating the most popular, the most attractive, the most kind and considerate boy in the entire school. He wonders how Eleanor feels having the whole school in the palm of her hand. She probably doesn't even realize.

“Everyone stand up. Girls on the right, boys on the left,” the headmaster requests, watching as the students slowly and confusedly follow his directions.

It takes a little while but eventually everyone separates with the headmaster standing in the middle examining their clumps. Harry looks over at Cara and laughs quietly. They haven't said anything but it's obvious what they're laughing at. Others might not understand, but Harry and his friends just always know. 

“Harry,” the headmaster calls, interrupting their giggling.

Harry looks up at him irreverently. He's well aware that the headmaster just called him out in front of the entire school, but he doesn't really mind. Cara is laughing with him and giving him this look that Harry knows the rest of his friends are giving him too. He's far too amused by this whole situation to be bothered. He doesn't really care all that much about the opinions of anyone else at the school.

Assemblies are a joke anyways. No one wants to hear an old, straight white man discuss gender inequality or whatever requires them to be split.

The headmaster doesn't say anything else, just clears his throat and gives him this awkward, pained expression that says everything for him. Rolling his eyes, Harry walks away from his friends and to the boys’ side of the auditorium. He doesn't really know any of the boys other than the footie players that his friends date and tell him about, so he stands alone with his arms crossed in the crowd of boys, feeling very out of place.

He can hear some of the boys, footie boys, talking about him in a voice that Harry knows is supposed to be a whisper. Harry doesn't know nor does he care about what they're saying. He prefers being friends with girls as opposed to guys, sue him.

The assembly drones on with little to none of Harry's attention until the headmaster fixes his gaze onto someone who appears to be leaving. When Harry looks over, he sees that the man who is leaving happens to be Louis. Harry is suddenly interested in what the headmaster has to say.

“Mr. Tomlinson, where do you think you're going?”

“Harvard, I hope,” Louis answers, witty as ever. “But they're taking bloody forever to send an acceptance letter, so I might have to go with Oxford.”

The fact that Louis has already been accepted into Oxford shouldn't surprise Harry as much as it does. Louis is a genius, AP/honours student, A-levels, valedictorian of his class. Not to mention the fact that he is the captain of the football team and manages to find time to do all of that in addition to extra curricular activities. Harry, even in his Sophomore year, knows that he could never. He's struggling enough as it is with his Chemistry, and he's not even taking honours.

Harry watches as the headmaster struggles to come up with something to say in reply, and Louis simply walks out.

He wonders how Louis has the courage to do something so bold. This isn't the first time either. Harry has heard tell of a time when Louis stuck up for a girl, most likely his girlfriend at the time, whose teacher wouldn't let her go to the bathroom by asking the teacher what he would do if he had a penis that bled for one week every month. Harry can only imagine the look on the teacher's face and everyone else in the class’ face. 

Courage is not something that Harry has an abundance of. He doesn't even have the guts to talk to the boys standing next to him. He's fairly sure that they all think he is trying to steal their girlfriends. All of the guys seem to believe that Harry is solely friends with the girls because he is trying to date them. Harry doesn't have the bravery to inform them of otherwise. Perhaps it is because they are all much taller and broader than he is. Or maybe it's because of a reason that Harry is unable to admit. Either way, he can barely look at them without his heart racing.

The headmaster sighs, frustrated by the lack of respect he received, but allows Louis, along with the rest of the students in the room, leave to go to class. As soon as the headmaster excuses them, Harry rushes to Cara, eyes rolling as they begin complaining about the headmaster. 

They talk about how ridiculous it is for such a privileged man to be speaking to them about equality. They both appreciate the effort, truly, but they would rather him just not. 

When Cara asks him what makes him any less privileged than their headmaster, Harry freezes and sputters out something about his parents being divorced. Cara laughs and points out that he is still relatively close with both of his parents and his step-father. He's almost too quick to change the subject, asking about the speaker that will be speaking to them during their activity period on Thursday. 

Cara knows that Harry is hiding something from her, from everyone, but she doesn't know what. Harry is entitled to his secrets, just like she is to hers. Their whole friendship group has facts about themselves that they would rather not reveal, and they have a bit of an unspoken don't ask, don't tell policy. Whatever works, Harry supposes. Besides, everyone has secrets. Harry is sure that even someone as without faults as Louis has his fair share of secrets.

~~~~

Block scheduling is something that took Harry a little while to get used to. Since his middle school class schedule was the same everyday with forty five minute classes and a fifteen minute break, the hour and a half length periods were a drastic change. After about a month, Harry became accustomed to the multitudinous complexities of his high school schedule. His opinions on his schedule haven't changed much at all since freshman year. He still firmly believes that his Thursday schedule is easier than his Wednesday schedule even with his study hall on Wednesday. Thursday is without a doubt his favourite day of the week.

This is the first Thursday that he has not been excited for, but the day of the week is not the reason for his sour mood. Earlier in the week he had been content, but as the week progressed he gradually became more and more aggravated by his friend. He is fed up with how petty Eleanor is being. Harry honest to God doesn't even know what he has done, but Eleanor just continues nurturing this spite towards him.

When his mother asked him what was wrong this morning, Harry only rolled his eyes. Retrospectively, Harry realizes that he acted brashly and his mother did not deserve his rude attitude, but Harry cannot take back what is already done though he might want to. Had Gemma not gone off to college this year, she would have told Harry that he would feel contrite about it later and insist that he apologize. 

He misses Gemma, calls her every week and texts her more often than that, but he misses her presence as well.

Gemma had attended the same high school Harry does now but graduated the year before Harry entered high school. In fact, she was friends with some of the girls that Harry is currently friends with and knew many of the older footie boys. He remembers being in middle school and trying to play with Gemma and her friends during one of Gemma’s birthday parties. It was the first time Harry laid eyes on Louis and some of the other people who he is friends with now, but he only remembers seeing Louis. 

They didn't speak. Louis was busy wishing Gemma a happy birthday, most likely flirting with one of her friends, and well, not seeing Harry, and Harry was too shy to speak to a sophomore in high school. Harry in his last year of middle school could have never predicted that during his own sophomore year of high school he would actually slow dance with Louis Tomlinson. Granted, it was probably just Louis feeling sorry for him but nevertheless he has come a long way. 

As soon as the bell rings, signalling the end of class, Harry heads over to the cafeteria. Eleanor sat with Louis and his friends during break which wouldn't be out of the ordinary had she not been sitting with Hannah and Meredith before Harry walked over. Harry tried not to be offended when he smiled and waved at her only to watch her stand up and walk away.

Harry wonders if Gemma ever had to deal with friendship problems such as his.

He and Eleanor haven't talked at all this week and as Harry opens the door to the cafeteria, he realizes that it's bothering him more than he originally thought. He shouldn't be surprised. One of his closest friends is ignoring him for a reason unbeknownst to Harry. He has a right to be upset.

The lunch staff must notice that something is off with Harry for when he thanks them, they only smile as if they pity him. It must be his face and not his tone of voice that clue them in, for they are not the only ones who notice. The kind cashier even asks Harry if he is alright to which Harry responds with a shrug and a nod. His emotions are mixed so his answer is, too. The lunch staff don't deserve his gross mood either, but Harry has never been good at wearing a fake smile.

To Harry's astonishment, Eleanor is seated at their lunch table instead of the footie team’s. She is talking to Cara whose eyebrows are furrowed and arms crossed. Some of the other girls are sitting and listening to whatever conversation they are having. None of them notice when Harry walks up until he sets his plate on the table and sits down.

“Yeah, I've got to go,” Eleanor ends their conversation, side-eyeing Harry. “Louis is going to be waiting for me.”

Cara looks as if she is about to disagree, but Harry, having held in his frustration for an ungodly amount of time, speaks first, preventing Eleanor from going anywhere. He really needs this moment to confront Eleanor and give her a calmly stated piece of his mind. At least that is what he intends to happen during this conversation.

“What did I do to give you the right to treat me like shit? One minute we’re friends and the next you're ignoring me and leaving me on read,” Harry explains, jaw clenched. “Would you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

“Are you serious?” She asks facetiously. “You keep leading me on! You flirt with us all, but refuse to date any of us!”

Harry must look as confused as he is, for Eleanor continues with, “I thought you liked me, so I left my bra out for you when you slept over and you just put it back in my drawer. That's fucking weird! I finally gave you the green light and you didn't move! I’m not the bitch here, Harry. You are!”

Harry only blinks, brow creased. When he looks around the table, he sees Gigi avoid eye contact with him awkwardly, Hannah purse her lips, and Meredith open her mouth before closing it again. Harry can't say anything; he doesn't know what to say. Out of all the conceited reasons he thought Eleanor was mad at him, this was not one.

He wants to ask if the rest of the girls feel like this as well, but he can't find the words. He just doesn't know how to ask if his friends all think that he was being a player and trying to dangle them on a line. Fortunately, his broken expression does the talking for him.

“I thought it was fun at first, but now with Ben wanting to date me, I really need you to make up your mind. I don't want to drop Ben because all of a sudden you're into me…” Meredith explains, biting her lip. 

Gigi is the next to speak. “We can still be friends even if you decide to date someone else, but I mean… Come on, Harry, how long did you think you could keep us on the hook?”

“I didn't,” Harry stops himself. “I wasn't–”

Everything is happening too quickly. Harry can't breathe. His ears are ringing. Nothing makes sense. He's looking at Eleanor, but it's as if he’s staring at a stranger. Hannah’s mouth is moving, but her voice seems to be coming from somewhere else. He can feel his heart beating faster and faster and faster. He's afraid that it will eventually just stop beating altogether. 

“Just date someone and stop flirting with the rest of us, and everything will go back to normal,” Harry hears someone say.

He's lost the ability to differentiate between who is speaking anymore. It's all a conglomerate of voices entering his ears at once. Harry can't believe any of this is happening. He can't believe that his friends are screaming at him to pick one of them to date like picking out a pet fish to buy. The same girls who helped Harry become a feminist are now demanding that he treat them like animals. He wants to throw up.

“You can't just be a fuckboy and expect no one to call you out on it.”

His breathing is getting heavier. He’s going to hyperventilate. Harry is going to pass out in the middle of the cafeteria all because he was too afraid to tell his closest friends his secret. There's no easy way out of this situation, and in Harry’s foggy mind, there is no way out of this situation at all.

The rest of the cafeteria is eating their lunch in peace. They're talking to their friends and laughing at memes. They're not being inundated with claims that they are toying with their friends. Harry envies all who are not him.

“I wasn't trying to string anyone along,” Harry manages to get out.

“Pick one of us and get it over with,” someone demands, ignoring Harry's statement.

“Don't be an asshole, Harry.”

Harry is repulsed by their words, heart aching more and more with each jab they throw. He shakes his head, pushing away his curls before hiding behind them when they fall back into his face. He desperately wants them to believe him but knows that they won't. He wants to hide, wants to scream, wants to cry. Truth be told, he doesn't know what he wants, but he knows that he does not want this.

“No, no, no! That's not true!” Harry says forcefully although quiet and unheard beneath the seemingly screamed out insults. 

There's a moment where the ringing in his ears overcomes him and he is unable to hear anything but the constant shrill noise. A moment where Harry aches to dig his fingers into his scalp, claw his own brains out, anything to get the dreadful noise to stop, anything to get his friends to stop. It is that moment when Harry stands up, chair clattering backwards and gaining the attention of a larger audience than he intended.

“I'm gay!” Harry yells above all the chaos of the cafeteria.

Everything is finally silent. As he looks around, eyes wide, he comprehends the fact that the entire cafeteria has heard his outburst and is now staring at him in shock. Even teachers and faculty are watching him. There is suddenly an unwanted spotlight on him, a magnifying glass over him, a glass cage around him. Everyone is staring at him, and there is nothing Harry can do about it. If anyone didn't know who he was before, they sure do now.

Harry is frozen, mouth wide, hands shaking slightly in fear. He's never been so petrified in his life. He feels as if he has just jumped into an icy lake in the midst of January. He wants to leave, wants to run from his problems, wants to awaken from this horrid nightmare, but he can't. Harry can't move. He can't sit back down, he can't even breathe.

The moment is but ephemeral however, to Harry it is sempiternal. It can not be more than a few seconds before he notices people begin to whisper again, this time about him, no doubt. He takes a step back, stumbling over the leg of his chair, but manages to maintain his balance. Walking backwards in disbelief of what just happened, he watches as everyone stares at him. His head pulses as he runs out of the cafeteria, heart clenching at the possibility of having just lost all of his friends. 

He wonders if his mother would consider leaving the country or at least allow him to transfer schools. There is no possible way that he will be able to survive this horrible humiliation, this wretched, self-abased ignominy.

The usual cafeteria pandemonium returns once Harry leaves, but even before the door closed behind Harry, there was a familiar voice triumphantly demanding that he be paid for winning the bet. What bet Louis, or at least someone who sounded like him, was referring to is a mystery to Harry, but since the only option for him now is to become a social recluse, Harry doesn't believe that he will ever find out.

He can hardly even bear to think about school tomorrow. He's sure to be stuffed in a locker, or given a swirlie, or even just get beaten up. In all honestly, Harry doesn't know if any of that stuff even happens anymore, but it will probably happen tomorrow. He’ll either be attacked or shunned, and Harry is not ready for either.

Of course before tomorrow chews him up and spits him into a rainbow coloured trash can, he has to deal with an hour and a half of class time with the girls who are sure to abhor him now. Thinking about it makes him want to throw up while crying in a ditch on the side of a road in Norway.

Harry is pathetic. He's a pathetic, gay, friendless loser with tears in his eyes and pain in his heart. He feels as if someone has ripped his heart from his chest and buried it beneath the snow, giving Harry no possible way to locate it. He's lost, and he's hurting. 

How pathetic.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is going to Harry's concert(s) in the DC area hmu in the comments or on Twitter.
> 
> twitter: @cozyrosyharry


End file.
